


six different ways

by dimolto



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: 40 year old men are also bad at emotions, Angst, But He Gets Better, Eddie Kaspbrak Lives, Falling In Love, Friends to Lovers, Homophobic Language, Hurt/Comfort, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Mutual Pining, Technically he dies, awkward hand touching, idiots to lovers, teenage boys are bad at emotions
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-15
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:26:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 15,088
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21803677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimolto/pseuds/dimolto
Summary: He could have kissed Richie right then and there.Instead, he just kept staring and felt a little bit like he was digging his own grave.Or: Six times Eddie wanted to kiss him, and the one time he finally did.
Relationships: Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier
Comments: 20
Kudos: 211





	1. in between days

Eddie Kaspbrak was lost.

Not _physically_ lost - that would have been practically impossible in a town as small as Derry. He was lost in the sense of having absolutely no idea how to function after everything he’d just witnessed. There was no instructional manual for this kind of thing, as much as Eddie would have loved a copy of ‘How to Deal With the Crushing Psychological Weight of Killing an Interdimensional Terror Clown: For Dummies.’

After the Losers had formed the blood pact, Eddie had started walking home, intent on returning to his normal life. The sky was still blue, Derry was still a shithole, and just because he’d faced Maine’s very own eldritch horror didn’t mean anything had to change. But something still felt wrong, something still shook Eddie down to his very core. He’d started shaking so hard that he had to stop walking, and he’d ending up sitting somewhere on the side of the Kissing Bridge, staring blankly ahead. 

Eddie leaned back against the fence, looking down as he traced the letters carved into the wood. He felt dazed, as if the only thing tethering him to life was the sting of his recently slashed palm. He’d dabbed on some antiseptic from his pocket first aid kit, but he still felt the need to wash it again, and again, and again. He wanted to scrub away the dirt of the sewers, he wanted to burn off his mother’s words, he wanted to-

“Hey, Eddie!”

Eddie whipped his head towards the direction of the voice. Richie - of course it was Richie - hastily slammed the brakes on his bike, waving animatedly. 

The rush of relief he felt when he saw Richie was strange, but not really unexpected. “Hi, Richie.” Eddie pushed himself off the ground, trying to keep himself steady as he approached the other boy.

Richie grinned at him, leaning forward against his handlebars. “Need a ride back, Eds?”

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie shot back. “Also, are you serious? Do you know how unsafe it is to have two people on a bike, _especially_ when one of them has a broken arm?”

“We’ll walk back, then.” Richie hopped off his bike, falling into step with Eddie.

He said _we_ so easily, Eddie realized. He didn’t know why that meant so much to him when Richie clearly hadn’t meant anything by it. Eddie tried to shake off whatever feeling had crept over him, nodding his head slightly. He walked next to Richie, watching the footprints they left behind. 

“How’s your arm?” Richie broke the silence, turning to look at Eddie. 

Eddie shrugged. “It's getting better. Somehow your handiwork didn’t fuck it up beyond repair.”

“I knew it would work!” Richie crowed. “Go ahead and call me Doctor Tozier, MD.”

“I shudder at the thought of you becoming a doctor.”

“Fuck you, I’d be a great doctor. I have surgeon’s hands.” Richie wiggled his fingers to demonstrate. 

Eddie grinned. “Maybe, but your bedside manner would get you fired in a second.”

“I have _excellent_ manner in bed, Eds, just ask your mom.”

“That’s not what that means and you know it, Richie,” Eddie protested. 

Richie just shrugged and pointed at Eddie’s cast. “So, like, can you even jack off with that thing?” 

Eddie shoved him with his non-broken arm. “Fuck off.”

“Right, that’s what I’m _saying_ -”

“Beep beep, Richie.” 

Richie laughed. It was a nice sound, loud and warm. Whenever Richie came over, Eddie’s mom would complain that he laughed too loud. Eddie didn’t know how anyone could ever hate a laugh like that, and if his mom thought that, then she could-

Oh, _shit_.

His fucking _mom_.

Eddie stopped dead in his tracks. “Holy fucking shit, goddamn, I am so screwed.”

Richie stopped too, shooting a confused look over his shoulder. “Uh, Eds?”

“My mom is gonna kill me.”

“If you want, I can distract her, if you know what I mean-”

Eddie felt his hands start to shake. “No, no, I mean, for real this time.” 

Richie still looked confused, eyes narrowed behind his glasses. “What’s so special about this time?”

“Do you really want to know?” Eddie shifted his feet nervously.

“Course I do, Eds.” Richie took a hesitant step closer. “You can tell me whatever you want to. You know that.”

“Okay.” Eddie took a deep breath. “Last time I went to the pharmacy, Greta Keene told me that all the pills, the shots, the medicine- it’s all fake. They’re fucking gazebos, or whatever the goddamn word is. My mother’s been giving me bullshit my whole life, Richie. So I kind of lost it at her, and basically told her to fuck off, and then I just _left_ to go help you guys.” 

“You seriously said that to Mrs. K?” Richie gaped at him. “Eddie, that takes balls of goddamn steel! You are the bravest man I know.” 

Eddie rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right.”

“I mean it!” Richie said, slinging his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. “And, uh, I’m sorry she did all of that. That’s fucked up, Eds. You deserve better.”

“Yeah.” 

“I think I might have to break up with her now.”

Eddie elbowed him in the side, but he still laughed in spite of himself. He felt better, and he wondered if it was all because of Richie.

It may have seemed odd to rely on Richie so much - after all, it was _Richie_. He was loud, he was vulgar, and he was downright irritating, sometimes. But when Eddie needed someone to talk to, someone for the really important shit, there’s no one he would have rather had with him than Richie. Most people treated Eddie like he was weak, fragile, delicate. He hated it. Richie was different. Richie treated him the same as everyone else.

Well - that wasn’t quite right. If anything, Richie treated him like he was _stronger_. Richie constantly teased him, touched him, and made fun of him more than any of the other Losers, and Eddie had a feeling it was because Richie knew he would fight back. Richie’s constant shower of attention was overwhelming, sometimes, but not entirely in a bad way. Of course Eddie hated the teasing, but-

He also sort of liked it. 

“You wanna sleep over at my place?” Richie asked, breaking Eddie from his thoughts. “If you wanna avoid your demon mother’s wrath of terror, I mean. My parents don’t mind.”

“Yeah, okay,” Eddie said. “Let’s take the bike.” It was a stupid act of rebellion against his mother. He knew that, and he knew it wouldn’t change things, but it felt nice to go against what she would want for him.

Richie pretended to gasp, bringing a hand to his chest. “But my darlin’ Eds, what about the accident statistics?” Richie asked with faux-wide eyes. He was clearly going for Southern belle, speaking in an accented falsetto and batting his eyelashes dramatically. 

Eddie stifled a laugh. “Shut up and drive, Rich.” 

Richie snorted. “Ask and you shall receive, young Kaspbrak.” He bowed slightly before hopping onto his bike.

Eddie carefully climbed onto the back of the bike and clung to Richie, arms wrapped around his chest. He tried to position his cast so it wouldn’t be uncomfortable for Richie.

“Ready to go, Eds?” Richie called. 

“Bring it on.”

Richie gave a whoop of delight and started pedaling, taking off down the street. Eddie could feel the warm summer breeze against his face, swooping through his hair. The sky was so blue, and Richie’s grin was so wide, and for a moment Eddie felt like a real person again. He felt _happy_ , and he let himself revel in it. 

Suddenly, Richie swerved wildly, almost running into the curb. Eddie felt the bike shake beneath them as Richie struggled to keep them upright.

“Be careful, jackass!” Eddie yelled, clutching his arms tighter.

Richie must have said something back, but Eddie didn’t hear; he was much more focused on how close he’d gotten to Richie. He could feel Richie’s heartbeat, faster than normal, against his hands. They were both breathing heavily, chests rising and falling with intention. Richie’s chest was solid, _strong_ , and Eddie felt safe just touching him. He glanced up, gazing at Richie’s profile. He really was attractive, as much as Eddie hated to admit it. His long, dark eyelashes cast shadows down his cheeks, and his messy black hair fell carelessly in front of his eyes. He had nice lips, too, and Eddie really wouldn’t have minded leaning just an inch closer and feeling those lips against his.

_Wait._

_What the fuck._

Eddie struggled to take a breath, feeling like he was in the middle of an asthma attack. Which was stupid, because he knew his asthma was complete fucking bullshit, but _something_ must have been happening, because he suddenly couldn’t breathe and his heart was beating out of his chest and-

“Woah, Eds, are you okay back there?” Richie snapped Eddie out of his trance, pedaling slower and glancing back at him, eyebrows raised.

Eddie took a deep, shaky breath in. “Perfectly fucking fine.”

But he wasn’t fine, and he didn’t think he ever really would be again.


	2. boys don't cry

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for homophobia in this chapter; nothing worse than what's shown the movies and book, but just be aware! This chapter is the worst it's going to get in terms of angst/triggering content - they're mostly lighter from here on out!

Eddie had hoped that high school would be different.

Bowers was gone, the clown was dead, and the Losers Club had only grown closer over the summer. High school should have been okay. 

_Some things never change, though _, Eddie realized as he stared at the six-letter word written in angry red pen on his locker.__

He felt sick just looking at it. It reminded him of every awful thing his mother had told him about the diseases _those kind of people _could get, of every stupid letter of graffiti on the bathroom walls, and of every piercing word Bowers had screamed at him.__

__“What do you think of the paint job?”_ _

__Henry Bowers might have been locked up a few months ago, but his shithead friends were still out to make Eddie’s life a living hell. Eddie didn’t remember this one’s name, but he knew that he was big, stupid, and mean._ _

__“Leave me alone.” Eddie silently cursed the slight tremble in his voice._ _

The guy moved closer, shaking his head. “People like _you _,” he spat out the last word, “need to be put in their goddamn place.”__

__He kept moving closer. Eddie wanted to get away, to run until his lungs started to burn, but he was trapped against his locker. He swallowed, bracing for whatever was coming._ _

__“Hey, man!” A voice called from the hallway. Eddie saw Richie turning the corner, walking towards them. “This your handiwork?”_ _

_Holy shit, Richie. ___

__“What the hell do you care, fuckface?” The guy spun around to face Richie._ _

__Richie gave a forced laugh, walking closer. “I’m just surprised you knew how to spell it, big guy! The word’s got six whole letters, and it must be awful hard for you to remember ‘em all in order.”_ _

__“You wanna say something, say it to my goddamn face.”_ _

“I just did say it to your face. Or was it your ass? I can’t really tell the difference, cause they look so-”

Richie was cut off with a fist to his face. He fell to the ground, groaning and muttering some truly creative expletives under his breath. Eddie felt frozen to the ground, unable to move an inch. 

He watched as Richie pushed himself up, hand pressed against his nose to stop the blood trickling out. “That’s all you got?”

The guy sneered. “You’re in for it now, you fucking qu-”

Finally, Eddie couldn’t take it anymore. He launched himself forward, fist connecting with the guy’s face in a sick, squishy sound. His knuckles stung as he watched the guy scrabble backwards, blood spurting from his nose. 

When Eddie looked down, Richie was staring up at him, looking almost reverent. 

“Hurry, Rich, before he gets up!”

Richie suddenly snapped back to reality, jumping up and stumbling a little bit. Eddie grabbed his hand and pulled him along. The sound of their shoes hitting the floor tiles rung in Eddie’s ears, and he held Richie’s hand tighter. He didn’t stop holding Richie’s hand, even when they reached the pavement outside and kept running.

“Holy shit, Eds!” Richie laughed wildly, voice echoing down the street. “Holy shit. You punched a guy in the fucking face!”

“I know!” Eddie laughed, too. 

“You broke his fucking nose!”

“I _know _!”__

“You’re the bravest person I know, Eds!” Richie yelled. “I’ve always said that. Haven’t I always said that?”

“I wasn’t brave, Richie, I was fucking terrified.”

Richie squeezed his hand, shooting him a sideways grin. “Can’t be brave unless you’re scared first.”

They laughed again, and they ran, and they kept laughing even as rain started pouring down around them. Eddie was getting drenched, and even as his brain started listing off all the possible diseases resulting from exposure to cold weather, he couldn’t really bring himself to care when Richie’s hand was so warm around his.

They ended up at Eddie’s house, throwing open the door and running up the stairs to Eddie’s room. They sat on his bed, watching the rain pour down outside. For a moment, there was no sound beside the soft drum of rain on pavement.

“I’m not, you know,” Eddie said quietly. “I’m not what he wrote on my locker. I’m not that.”

“I know,” Richie said. “Bowers used to say the same thing about me, right? And I’m not, either.”

They were quiet for a minute before Eddie responded. “But there’s worse things, right?”

“Worse things?”

“I mean, being that. It wouldn’t be the worst thing on the planet.” Eddie could feel his heart almost beating out of his chest.

“‘Course not. I don’t think it’s a bad thing, for someone to be like that.” Richie looked down. “But I’m not.” He wouldn't meet Eddie's eyes.

Eddie looked away, too. “Yeah. Me neither.” He almost felt like he meant it before he looked back at Richie. 

Eddie realized that if he was going to keep lying to himself, he should probably get better at it.

Richie was silent for a moment before he caught a glimpse his face in Eddie’s mirror.

“Hey, woah, check it out, Eddie!” Richie jumped off the bed and walking over to the mirror, grinning as he admired his bruise. “Do you think I look cool?” 

Eddie silently thanked whatever god out there that Richie had moved on to a new topic so quickly. “I think you look like an idiot who got punched in the face,” He said, moving closer. Richie’s cheek was already showing off a dark bruise, which almost hid the small cut just under his eye. The blood under his nose was almost dry, smudged by his own hands. “That looks like it really hurts, Richie.”

“Doesn’t hurt as much as when your mom-”

“Don’t even finish that sentence.” Eddie cupped Richie’s jaw in his hand. “You need to clean that out.”

“Seriously, I’m fine, Doctor Kaspbrak. Clean bill of health, ready to go!”

“If you’re not going to do it, I will. C’mon.” Eddie grabbed his hand again, dragging him down the hall to the bathroom.

_You don’t need to hold his hand for the 10-foot walk down your hallway _, Eddie’s brain told him.__

_Shut up, brain _, was his response.__

Richie hopped up onto the bathroom sink, balancing on the edge, legs swinging against the cabinet. Eddie stood in front of him, holding a bottle of antiseptic and a small cloth in his hands.

“Is this really necessary?” 

Eddie frowned. “If you don’t clean out the cut, it could get infected. Do you want parasites living on your face, Richie? Do you?”

“I already have a parasite sitting on my face, Eds, and her name is your mom.”

“Don’t call me Eds.” Eddie poured the antiseptic onto the cloth, careful not to spill any.

“Sure thing, Doctor K.”

Eddie lightly pressed the cloth against Richie’s cheek. Richie bit his lip, clinging to the tiles beneath his hands. When Eddie pressed a bit harder, Richie hissed in pain and swore under his breath. Eddie began to pull his hand back, eyes widening. “Shit, sorry, I didn’t mean to-” 

“No.” Richie’s hand quickly grasped for Eddie’s wrist, holding it between them. They both stared at Eddie’s hand for a moment too long before Richie jerked his hand away. “I mean, you’re fine. Keep going,” Richie said, not meeting his eyes.

Eddie hesitated. “I don’t want to hurt you.”

“You’re not. You couldn’t.” Richie sounded so confident about his answer that Eddie reluctantly let go of his argument.

He leaned in closer, lightly pulling Richie’s glasses off of his face. Richie rapidly blinked a few times, eyes adjusting. 

“They were getting in the way.”

Richie just nodded, dark hair falling into his eyes, and _oh, shit _, Eddie had forgotten how distracting Richie was without his glasses. Not that he wasn’t also distracting with his glasses on, but this was… different. More personal. His eyes seemed much more intense, and Eddie almost had to look away.__

__He didn’t, though, instead cupping Richie’s cheek in his hand, thumb brushing lightly against the bruise forming on his cheek. He tried to keep his hand steady, but his vision was getting blurry._ _

__“Woah, man, are you crying?”_ _

__“No,” Eddie said through tears. He pulled his hand back from Richie’s cheek, digging his fingernails into his palm._ _

__“Yeah, you are.” Richie leaned in closer. Eddie hadn’t thought it was possible to get any closer. “Why?”_ _

__“You didn’t have to do that, you know,” Eddie said quietly. Upon seeing Richie’s confused expression, he continued. “You didn’t have to get involved. You only got hurt because of me. If you’d stayed out of it, you would have been fine, but you just had to throw yourself in there and-” Eddie bit his lip. “You have to be more careful.”_ _

__“I guess,” Richie shrugged, “but I’m not gonna let anyone treat you like that, especially not Bowers’ shithead friends. I don’t mind getting punched in the face a few times as long as you end up okay, Eds.” He moved even closer, somehow, so that their chests were almost touching. “Besides, you’re way too cute to walk around with a black eye.”_ _

__Eddie’s eyes burned, tears blurring his vision even more. Richie reached a hand up to Eddie’s cheek, so slowly he was almost daring Eddie to push him away, before brushing the tears aside with long, bruised fingers._ _

“Eds…” Richie’s voice was so soft that it was almost a whisper. They were so close, now. Richie reached for Eddie’s hand, weaving their fingers together. It was the hand Eddie had broken last summer, and he wondered if Richie remembered. Eddie tore his gaze away from their hands, glancing back up at Richie. Richie was just _looking _at him, so open and earnest it almost hurt. Eddie felt dazed. If he moved in a little bit closer, and if he tilted his head just so, they would be kissing. He could kiss Richie. He was so close to kissing him, and-__

__Eddie jerked back hastily at the sound of his front door opening, yanking his hand away from Richie’s. “Shit. My mother’s home.”_ _

__Richie blinked twice, almost seeming to realize where he was. “I should go.”_ _

For a moment, neither one of them moved. Richie just kept staring at him, almost like he was waiting for something to happen. 

But nothing did. Richie just shook his head slightly, pushing himself off the sink. He put his glasses back on before jumping onto the windowsill and pulling himself out of the bathroom window. He turned around, though, and grinned like nothing had happened. “Bye, Eddie.”

“Bye, Richie.” 

Richie gave a small wave before climbing down the fence. 

As soon as Richie was gone, Eddie felt the full force of his emotions crash back over him. He slammed his hand against the back of the bathroom door.

“Shit. Shit, shit, _shit _.”__

Eddie sank to the ground, hands shaking as he wrapped his arms around his knees. His body felt cracked, almost hollow, as if he were the one who’d gotten punched instead of Richie. He was still crying, he realized, as stupid tears burned down his face. He rubbed his eyes helplessly, harder than he really needed too. His vision was blurry for a second before he focused on the wall in front of him. It was blank and white, a vast expanse of absolutely nothing. He noticed that the part where the door handle always hit the wall was dented, and for some reason, that made him want to cry even more. 

Eddie wanted to push his heart back down his throat and swallow it whole. He wanted his skin to stop burning wherever Richie had touched him. 

He wanted to stop _wanting _in all the ways he knew he shouldn’t want.__

__The worst part wasn’t even that someone had written that goddamn word on his locker, Eddie realized._ _

__The worst part was that they had been right._ _


	3. just like heaven

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's been a while.

Eddie and the rest of the boys in the Loser’s club were sleeping over at Stan’s house that night to celebrate the end of their freshman year. (Richie’s exact words had been _to celebrate a whole year without almost getting murdered_!)

Late that night, when they were going through Stan’s parents’ movie collection, Ben had hesitantly suggested that they watch _Dirty Dancing._ His proposal had gained earnest support from Mike and, of all people, Richie. Bill was always supportive of whatever movie the group chose, Stan didn’t really care as long as it didn’t end in a fight (it usually did), and Eddie, who hadn't been allowed to see the movie when it came out, had been curious. 

So they’d watched _Dirty Dancing,_ and as Eddie watched Richie attempt to do a Patrick Swayze imitation, he began to think that might have been a mistake.

“Now I’ve... had… the time of my life…” Richie sang off-key. Next to him, Ben started humming along. 

“No, I’ve never felt this way before,” joined Mike, who Eddie was surprised to learn had a very nice singing voice. Bill began nodding his head in time with the lyrics, and Stan was trying to stifle his laughter. Eddie was having the same dilemma; he’d ended up covering his mouth with his hand as he watched in amusement.

“Yes I swear, it’s the truth,” crooned Richie. 

“And I owe it all to you!” the two sang in unison. At that point, the whole group burst into laughter, almost hysterical from staying up so late. 

“I think,” said Stan slowly, looking tiredly amused, “that we should go to sleep now.”

A few words of protest were thrown out, but everyone eventually crawled into their sleeping bags. The lights were turned out, Eddie closed his eyes, and everything was blissfully quiet for a few minutes. 

“Hey,” Richie whispered in his ear. “You awake, Eds?”

Eddie cracked one eye open. “Dude, shut up. You’re gonna wake up Stan.”

“Don’t worry about Stan, Baby,” said Richie in a put-on, ridiculously deep Voice.

“Just-” Eddie buried his face in his hands, frustrated. “Stop trying to talk like Patrick Swayze and go to sleep!”

“Nobody puts Baby in a corner,” whispered Richie in a low Voice that sounded absolutely nothing like Patrick Swayze. 

Eddie smiled despite himself. “Shut. Up.”

“You can’t let me watch Dirty Dancing and expect me _not_ to do the voice.” Suddenly, Richie’s eyes lit up. “Eds, d’ya think we could do the lift?”

“Oh my god, no,” replied Eddie in a horrified whisper. 

“C’mon! You’re small enough.”

Eddie gestured wildly. “But you have fucking _noodle arms._ You’d drop me!”

“ _Noodle arms_?” Richie snorted. “What the fuck does that even mean?” 

“It means that your arms are long, and skinny, and they don’t have any structure. Just like overcooked noodles.” 

Richie clasped his hand over his heart. “That is so rude.” 

Eddie shrugged. “It’s not rude if it’s the truth.”

“Fuck you. Also, I would never drop you, and I wholeheartedly resent that accusation. Does my friendship mean nothing to you, Kaspbrak?”

“Yeah.” 

Richie’s jaw dropped. “The pain, oh, the agony! Why do you hurt me so, my darling-”

“Okay, okay, beep beep, I’m sorry!” Eddie hissed, laughing. 

Richie raised his eyebrows. “Sorry enough to do the lift with me?”

“Not a fucking chance.” Eddie grinned smugly. 

A wicked smile lit up Richie’s face. “Fine. If you won’t do it, then I guess I’ll have to do it with your mom. Though now that I think about it, she might have to lift me-”

“Go the _fuck_ to sleep, you two,” Stan’s exasperated voice called from across the room.

“Sorry, Stan!” They whispered in unison. Stan, still half-asleep, just grumbled something unintelligible and turned back towards Bill. 

Eddie immediately bit his lip to stifle his laughter. When he turned to see Richie with the exact same expression, he held a finger up to his mouth in a shushing motion, but that just seemed to make Richie laugh even harder. Richie was shaking in amusement, and his smile was just a bit crooked. Eddie felt delirious. He felt like he could look at Richie forever. 

They’d both stopped laughing, Eddie realized, and now they were just staring at each other, smiling. The orange streetlights outside gave the whole room a strange glow, making Richie’s dark eyes burn golden. A car passed by outside, and Eddie watched intently as the shadow cast strange patterns across Richie’s face. 

They were so close to each other already, sleeping bags not quite coincidentally placed next to each other on the hardwood floor of Stan’s living room. And his heart was already beating so fast, threatening to leap out of his chest. It would be so easy to kiss him, Eddie thought, and he wanted to kiss him so badly it almost hurt. 

He might have actually done it, too, had it not been for the sudden sound of creaking floorboards across the room as one of his friends moved in their sleep.

Eddie jolted backwards, feeling himself return to his body. It happened _again._ He’d let his stupid feelings overtake any rationality he might have left. He’d almost ruined everything.

Cover it up, he told himself, _and be more careful next time._

“I,” he whispered much louder than necessary, “am going to sleep.” He turned his head away from Richie, scared of how he might feel if he kept looking at him. 

He waited for a few seconds before he heard Richie let out a deep breath and turn away, too. “Yeah. G’night, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that,” he replied. “...Goodnight.” He whispered the last part so softly that he wasn’t even sure if Richie actually heard it. 

Eddie considered, for a second, the incredible stupidity that something as dumb as this would make him want to kiss his best friend. Apparently jokes about his mother and bad Patrick Swayze impressions were what did it for him. Who knew?

It was complicated. It was weird. It was _intense._

At first, Eddie had almost been able to convince himself that what he felt wasn’t at all about Richie; it was just his way of coming to terms with his sexuality. He rationalized that he must have just been projecting certain feelings onto Richie, who was conveniently always around and, since puberty had hit, unfairly attractive. (From a completely objective point of view, of course.) Eddie had learned to deal with it. He could compartmentalize.

But something had changed, and that something had knocked Eddie’s world entirely off-balance. Whenever Richie made a terrible joke, or messed with his stupid glasses, or showed up somewhere in an eyesore of a Hawaiian shirt, or shot Eddie a crooked grin from across a room, or did practically anything that was so inherently _himself,_ Eddie was suddenly and irrevocably seized with the urge to kiss him. 

Apparently there was a very big difference between the hypothetical of being into guys and the reality of being in love with your best friend.

And that thought sure did some strange things to Eddie’s brain, because _oh, holy shit._

_He’s in love with Richie._

Eddie felt his stomach twist up in knots at the realization. He’d been aware that he was harboring certain feelings towards his best friend, but he’d never used that word before. Even just _thinking_ that word made this whole situation feel a thousand times more real and a thousand times more terrifying.

This was absolutely not happening. It _couldn’t._

And yet, almost unconsciously, Eddie spared a quick glance at the subject of his crisis. Glancing over to his side, he could see that the other boy was fast asleep, the usual crease between his brows smoothed out. A few strands of dark, messy hair fell over his eyes, casting moonlit shadows over his jaw. Eddie almost reached over to brush the hair away from his face before catching himself, digging his nails into his palm to snap himself out of his trance. He forcefully tossed his head back onto his pillow and turned over, squeezing his eyes shut as tightly as possible. 

Eventually, he fell asleep. 

And if he dreamed about Richie’s Patrick Swayze voice that night, it was no one’s business but his own.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter was brought to you by the way Andy Muschietti says Patrick Swayze.


	4. close to me

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is late high school, probably around 1993, just FYI!

It was the hottest day of summer, but that wasn’t why Eddie Kaspbrak felt like he was on fire.

He and his friends were standing on the edge of the cliff above the quarry, preparing to jump. They’d driven up to the woods earlier that day, but once the heat had proved too much, they’d unanimously voted to go swimming. The sun beat down on Eddie’s bare skin, and he suddenly felt grateful that he’d applied what everyone else had considered ‘excessive amounts of sunscreen.’ Humid air swarmed around his body, making the heat cling to him like a mosquito net.

Eddie wished he could blame the weather for his problem. _But that wasn’t quite true_ , he thought as he stared at his best friend. Richie was standing a few feet away, oblivious to Eddie’s gaze. He must have been doing one of his Voices, judging from the way Mike was laughing quietly and Stan was rolling his eyes yet smiling anyways. Richie’s dark hair ruffled slightly in the warm breeze, and his glasses reflected beams of light against the sun. Eddie took in his pale skin, the line of his jaw, the curve of his throat, and his tall, lithe figure, and he felt his own heart beat erratically under his skin. He watched as Richie held up his hand, presumably for a high five, but Stan just grabbed his wrist and pushed his hand down. Eddie resisted the urge to smile.

Suddenly, Richie turned towards him. Eddie looked away immediately, praying Richie hadn’t noticed him staring. 

“Hey, Eds!” Richie was grinning as he approached him. Looking at the smug expression on his face, Eddie could guess that his prayers hadn't quite worked. “Taking in the view?” Richie raised his eyebrows dramatically.

“No! No, that’s not-” Eddie stumbled over his words. Richie was obviously just fucking with him, but he still felt his heart in his throat. “You’re just so pale that the sun reflected back into my corneas and blinded me,” he shot back lamely.

“Says the guy whose face is _actually_ white,” Richie taunted.

“Oh, sure, blame me for taking the appropriate precautionary measures to protect my skin. Talk to me later when you’ve developed early-onset melanoma, asshole.”

“Come on, dude, you just have to rub it in more. Here, let me-” He reached a finger out to touch Eddie’s cheek.

Eddie immediately batted his hand away. “No, fuck you, that’s not-”

Richie lunged for him, trying to cup his face and rub in his sunscreen. Eddie twisted out of his grasp and pushed him away before defensively taking a few steps back. Richie grabbed for him again, laughing hysterically the whole way through. This time, Eddie grinned deviously before he launched himself full-force at Richie, attempting unsuccessfully to tackle him to the ground. Richie grabbed onto him to try to throw him off in return, which ironically only made Eddie cling on to his waist even tighter. They were grappling and embracing and pressed up against each other, and Eddie realized with a start that he’d never been so close and deliberate with another person before. 

“ _Guys_ ,” interrupted Bev, amusement dancing at the edge of her voice.

Eddie froze as he felt his heart drop into his stomach. _He’d forgotten where he was._ He jolted out of Richie’s arms and pushed the other boy away before turning to look at his friends, all of whom were staring at the duo with expressions ranging from mild concern to sheer hilarity. Mortified, he carefully glanced back at Richie, who hadn’t moved an inch since Eddie had pushed him. Richie’s eyes were very, very wide, and he was still staring at Eddie in a way that felt almost as intense as his touch.

“Fuck you,” Eddie said. 

Then he jumped off the cliff.

He went weightless for a few seconds before plunging into the cool water. Quickly, he swam up to the surface, wiping off his face and taking a deep breath. He felt himself laughing wildly - he’d forgotten how _fun_ this was. Above him, he could hear assorted yells and cheers from his friends. Richie was cheering the loudest off all.

Distantly, Eddie realized that this was the first time he’d been the first one to jump. 

The rest of the group followed, landing with loud splashes around him. They all swam over to a place where they could stand, laughing and splashing each other the whole way there. Eddie watched how the sunlight glittered against the water, dancing lights before his eyes. He watched the sky, enveloping the world in its azure, cloudless blue. He watched Richie, always, and he hated himself just a little bit for it. 

Screwing his eyes shut, Eddie sank down underneath the surface and let the cool water cascade over his skin. He could hear vague muffled sounds above him as he held his breath. Eddie stayed underwater for as long as he could, so long that he thought his lungs might have burst with it, before he finally resurfaced with a long, deep breath. Laughing weakly, he rubbed the water away from his eyes. 

“Kaspbrak!” Richie called, swimming over to Eddie before ducking his head and sinking down a bit to meet Eddie’s gaze. 

He smelled like sunscreen, and Eddie didn't understand how he somehow found that endearing. Richie had gotten close enough that Eddie could see the small droplets of water clinging to his dark eyelashes. When he blinked, they trailed down his face, down his throat, pooling in his collarbones and trickling down his chest. Eddie watched, enraptured, before realizing what he must look like and immediately snapping his gaze back to Richie's face. 

When Richie finally spoke, his voice was low and surreptitious. “The Losers are gonna have a chicken fight. Wanna be partners?” 

Eddie nodded earnestly, still feeling just a little bit dazed. “Let’s do it, Tozier.” 

Richie shot him a wicked grin. “The other teams won’t stand a chance.”

The rest of the afternoon was spent swimming in the quarry, filled with mock-fighting, handstand contests, and floating aimlessly around the water. When that got too tiring, the group moved to the flat rocks on the edge to soak in the late rays of sun, and when _that_ got old, they made the short hike over to their old clubhouse. The whole day seemed so warm and nostalgic, and at that moment Eddie knew that no matter how conflicted or worried he felt, he really was happy. 

* * *

In retrospect, it had been a terrible idea to get into the hammock with Richie.

Oh, sure, it had seemed smart at the time. _Climb into the tiny enclosed space with the guy you’re 99% sure you’re head-over-heels in love with, Eddie! Sit halfway in his lap just to feel his skin against yours!_ Another completely logical, incredibly well thought-out plan by Eddie Kaspbrak.

To be fair, Richie’s ten minutes _had_ been up.

But the second Eddie had positioned himself between Richie’s legs, he started regretting his decision. For the last several minutes, he'd been trying to figure out if this was socially acceptable behavior for a boy who was desperately in love with his best friend and was trying very hard not to be. 

He hadn’t quite figured it out yet.

Richie was lying across from him, full attention directed towards the comic book in his hands. Eddie was somewhat grateful for the distraction - with Richie's focus elsewhere, he was much less likely to notice how fast Eddie's heartbeat had become. How red Eddie's face looked. How often Eddie turned to stare at him. And stare he did; it was hard not to, given Richie's current appearance. His dark hair was messy from their swim, and despite Eddie's aversion to anything touched by the bacteria-filled quarry water, he had to admit that it was a really good look. Richie's loud Hawaiian shirt was fully unbuttoned, showing off sharp collarbones and an agile figure, and his swim shorts were riding up on his long, skinny legs. Eddie had to remind himself to breathe. 

The weird thing was, they’d gotten themselves into this position a worrying number of times before Eddie realized how he felt. And _that_ little fact had forced him to question how long he’d actually been in love with Richie, which was something he absolutely did not want to think about. 

But attempting to shut up the constant flood of worry and stress that plagued his mind was much easier said than done.

Then, Richie shifted his position slightly, and Eddie’s brain decided to shut off all thoughts completely aside from a ridiculous mantra of _Richie, Richie, Richie_. 

Apparently shutting up his brain was easier than Eddie had imagined. 

“No, that’s what I’m saying!” Richie’s sudden rise in volume pulled Eddie from his thoughts entirely. “Batman would 100% win, no question about it,” he continued. Apparently, while Eddie had been distracted, Richie had started one of his drawn-out spiels about something completely ridiculous. This time it appeared to be comic books.

“But Superman has actual powers,” Stan interjected from across the room. “Batman’s just an obscenely wealthy middle-aged man who dresses up in a Halloween costume to go around and punch people.” 

“That's way oversimplifying it!” Richie protested, clicking his tongue. "Batman's badass!" 

"He has a car shaped like his own _head_ ," groaned Stan.

“Stan’s right, though. Superman is way more overpowered. What c-c-could Batman do if Superman reversed time?” Bill asked. 

“He wouldn’t let that happen. Batman always plans ahead,” interjected Ben. 

“I like Superman more,” countered Mike. “He uses his power for good, to save people.”

“Jeez, you guys are such dorks.” Bev grinned teasingly. “It’s obviously Batman. Piece of cake.”

“It’s three-three, then.” Bill looked over at the hammock. “Eddie, b-break the tie?”

The whole room turned to Eddie. Richie stared at him, pleading.

Eddie shrugged. He didn’t really care about comics that much - his mother had forbidden them from the Kaspbrak household, deeming them far too violent and graphic. Eddie had resisted the urge to point out that they were called _graphic_ novels for a reason. But Richie seemed to care a lot about it, so: “Batman’s cooler.”

The clubhouse erupted into shouts and protests, but Eddie tuned it out in favor of looking back across the hammock. Richie was grinning at him as he punched him lightly on the shoulder.

“That’s my Eds,” he said quietly. 

“Don’t call me that,” Eddie muttered, blushing. His words had no bite to them, and Richie knew it.

Eventually, the group settled back down. Bev and Stan returned to their game of chess, whispering snarky comments to each other and laughing quietly the whole time. Ben, Bill, and Mike resumed their passionate conversation about new movies coming to the town theater. Richie had gone back to reading his comic, not paying attention to Eddie at all. Eddie frowned, a sick sense of jealousy creeping over him.

He carefully raised up his leg, shifted into position, and softly kicked Richie in the face. _Classy, Eddie_. 

It worked, though, because Richie looked away from his comic book to glare at Eddie. It was so nice, holding all of Richie’s attention like this. To feel Richie’s gaze on only him, dark eyes peering over the frames of his glasses. It was possessive, it was jealous, it was pathetic, but whenever he could catch Richie’s attention, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. 

He could have kissed Richie right then and there.

Instead, he just kept staring and felt a little bit like he was digging his own grave.


	5. lovesong

Eddie stared down at the CD case in his hands with a combination of shock and elation. “Are you serious? Like, you actually burned me a CD?”

Richie grinned, looking almost embarrassed. “It’s got mostly songs I know you like,” he said, “but I also chose some songs I think you might like. I mean, _I_ like them, and my music taste is fucking genius, so.”

“Thanks, Richie.” He glanced down at the tape, which was labelled simply “For Eds” in Richie’s messy, loopy handwriting. “Do you wanna play it?

Richie looked away, seeming almost embarrassed. “What, now?”

“Yeah, now. I need to judge if the songs are as cool as you say they are.”

He snorted. “If you insist. Go for it, Eds.” 

Eddie grinned and walked over to Richie’s CD player. It was covered in bright stickers and marker doodles, courtesy of the whole Losers Club. As Eddie put in the CD and pressed the play button, he gently tapped the smiley face drawn in Bev’s blue nail polish. 

He turned around to see Richie lying on his bed, leaning back with his arms crossed behind his head. Nodding along to the music, he walked over to the bed, knocking Richie’s shoulder with his knee. “Make room.”

Richie gazed up at him lazily. “Eddie, this is a one-person bed. It’s not even a twin. I don’t know where my parents even found a bed this small, but-”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “If you don’t make room, I’m getting in anyway.”

“Try it, Kaspbrak!”

“Fuck you, let me in!”

“No, you’re not gonna fit, Eds-”

“That’s what your sister said last night, dickhead-”

After thirty seconds of pushing and shoving, Eddie had managed to fit himself comfortably on the bed next to Richie. 

Then again, _comfortable_ might have been an overstatement - the bed had somehow been even smaller than it had looked.

Richie sighed dramatically, pressing a dainty hand against his forehead. “Your elbow is digging into my side. Why is your elbow so fucking sharp, huh?”

Eddie jabbed his elbow further into Richie’s side. “Sit on the floor, then.” 

“Nah.” Richie leaned even closer. “This is more comfortable.” 

Eddie raised an eyebrow, ignoring the rapid beating of his heart. “You literally just said it wasn’t.”

“I like being close to you.” Richie’s eyes stayed focused on the ceiling, as if he hadn’t just done the emotional equivalent of dropping a ten-ton brick onto Eddie’s chest.

The two boys were pressed together, lying side-by-side, painfully close. Hot summer air buzzed around them. Eddie could feel his heartbeat pounding relentlessly against his ribs, threatening to break him in two.

The music from Richie’s CD player was so loud. 

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am free again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am clean again _

It all hit far too close to home for Eddie. There were so many things he wanted so say, _do _, but he felt so useless trapped in his own body.__

__“Richie, do you think we’ll stay friends?” The words escaped Eddie’s lips before he wanted them too._ _

__Richie turned towards him, a searching expression on his face. “...What do you mean?”_ _

“Well, we’re graduating in a week, right? And we’re going to leave this shithole town, and you’re going to college in Los Angeles, and I’m going to New York. We’re going to be 3000 miles apart, and it’s just-” Eddie met his gaze anxiously. “Do you think we’ll still be close?”

“Jesus, Eds, you sound like Stan.” Richie kept his voice light, teasing, but his eyes were almost desperate as he looked at Eddie. “Of course we’ll still be friends, idiot. Always. You, me, and the rest of the Losers. Once you kill a fucking murderous interdimensional clown together, you’re kinda in it for life.” He reached out to touch Eddie’s shoulder. “But you’re my best friend, you know? So I’m never gonna forget anyone, especially not you, Eds.”

Eddie smiled softly, and it felt like there was a whole campfire in his chest . “...You really mean that?”

Richie gazed back at him with a look that could only be described as tender. “I dunno. It’s just hard to imagine a future where you’re not in it.” Seeming to realize how close they’d gotten, Richie suddenly leaned back and pushed up his glasses. “Because when I marry your mother, obviously we’ll-” 

Eddie kicked him in the shin, hard. “You are the worst person I’ve ever met. I’m not kidding.”

“Aw, come on. I really did mean the first part, Eds.” Richie shifted closer, grinning. 

“...Don’t call me that,” Eddie shot back, almost on instinct. He sighed and looked away from Richie to glance at the setting sun, hazy through the window screen. “It’s getting late, isn’t it?”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “What, does Mrs. K want you back early?” 

He nodded miserably. “Yeah. She’s been even stricter than usual lately. I don’t think she can handle the fact that I’m leaving home in a few months.”

“Sucks for her. I wanna hang out with you more.” 

Eddie tried to ignore how that made his heart skip a beat. “Yeah, yeah. I mean it, Richie.”

Richie rolled his eyes. “Ugh. _Fine_. But I’ll have you know, I’m only agreeing because, as soon as you’re all cute and tucked in and dreaming sweet nothings upstairs, I’m gonna-”

“Oh, let me guess. You’re going to have sex with her?”

Richie’s jaw dropped. “Dude, you just your-mom-joked _yourself_ ,” he cackled wildly.

Eddie slapped a hand over his mouth, stifling his laughter. “Oh my god. You’ve corrupted me.”

Richie laughed even harder. Eddie could feel the rumble of Richie’s chest against his skin, and he laughed, too. It hadn’t even been that funny, but Eddie thought the whole situation was absolutely ridiculous. The both of them pressed up against each other and drowning in heat, still joking and teasing and together. It was so stupid, so _them_ , and Eddie couldn't help the laughter rising up from his shaky chest.

“Eds, Eds, holy shit-” Richie’s words were drowned out as another wave of laughter crashed over him.

Still shaking with amusement, Eddie attempted to compose himself, straightening up and clearing his throat. “You should get out first,” he started.

Richie shifted awkwardly, trying to push himself up from the bed. “No, _you_ should-”

"No, _you_ , because I’m kind of on top of you, and- don't turn that into a sex joke, I swear to God-”

“Fuck, hold on, we’re-”

They both tumbled out of Richie’s bed, landing in a sprawl of limbs on the floor. Eddie groaned, bracing his hands against the floor to push himself up. But the floor felt suspiciously soft, and warm, and holy _shit_ , that was Richie’s chest. Eddie had ended up almost straddling Richie, pinning him to the floor with his hands pressed against his chest. He could feel Richie's heart pounding loudly against his ribcage. 

And Richie was staring up at him with wide, dark eyes, his face a bright shade of red, looking dazed and almost delirious. Eddie’s first thought was _oh, shit, he has a concussion_. He almost moved to grab his emergency first aid kit from his pocket (which, no matter how many times Richie called it stupid, was fucking useful, asshole) before he realized that he was still on top of Richie. 

Immediately, Eddie jumped off of him, quickly stumbling backwards. Richie picked himself up at the same hurried speed, dusting off his shirt.

Eddie, on the verge of panicking, clutched his hands over his mouth. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, Rich, let me give you a concussion test-” 

“ _Concussion test_?” Richie repeated. His voice was slightly husky, which was more distracting than it had any right to be. “Jeez, Eds, I fell maybe two feet.”

“But you looked so, um… _out of it_?” Eddie could feel his voice rising anxiously as he spoke.

“That was for, uh.” Richie looked away. His face was still very red. “Other reasons?” 

“Other reasons,” Eddie echoed, confused. 

“I don’t have a concussion, Eddie,” said Richie, amused and slightly fond. “Now come on, old chap! I’ll walk you home, now tally ho and move along!” He clapped Eddie on the shoulder before he almost ran out the door.

As he followed Richie downstairs, Eddie could still feel his shoulder burning where Richie had touched him.

“C’mon, we can ride over.” Richie pulled his old bicycle out of the side yard, wheeling it towards Eddie.

Eddie tilted his head, confused. “But I didn’t bring my bike.”

“Not a problem, my good man.” When Eddie didn’t move, Richie gestured to the back of the bike. “Hop on, dude!” 

He narrowed his eyes. “Richie, there’s no fucking way that’s going to work.”

“We did it all the time when we were kids!” Richie protested. 

Eddie threw his hands in the air. “Yeah, because we used to be tiny!”

Richie raised his eyebrows, giving Eddie an exaggerated once-over. “ _Used_ to be tiny?”

Eddie scowled at him. “I am the average height for a young adult male in my age group, asshole! I checked!”

Richie just laughed. “Are you gonna get on the bike or not, Eds?”

“Fine. Whatever.” Steeling his nerves, Eddie somewhat awkwardly positioned himself on the back of the bike. He wrapped his arms loosely around Richie’s shoulders, determined not to make things weird. 

“Alright. Ready?”

Eddie sighed. “Ready as I’ll ever be.”

“Preparing for takeoff in three, two… One!” he yelled, stomping his foot down on the pedal to launch the bike forwards.

And with that, they sped down the street, Richie laughing loudly. Reflexively, Eddie wrapped his arms tighter, hanging onto Richie for dear life. But much as he worried, he couldn’t deny that this was _fun_ \- flying down streets he knew like the back of his hand, basking in the warm orange rays of the setting sun, getting to hold on tightly to the person he loved most in the world. Distantly, he reminded himself that he probably wouldn’t have very many days like this left. He and Richie were going to college across the country from each other, and as much as they both liked to pretend otherwise, there was this ever-present underlying feeling that something was going to change. Sometimes it seemed like there was a timer hanging over their heads, counting down the seconds until they split apart. 

Eddie had always dreamed of escaping this awful town, but he’d never wanted to have to leave Richie behind. 

He shook his head slightly and tried to distract himself from those kinds of thoughts. _They still had a whole summer together_ , he reminded himself. Richie was still there, bright and grinning in front of him, and Eddie would be damned if he let this time pass him by. He pressed himself closer against Richie, holding him near to his heart all the way home.

They made it to Eddie’s neighborhood at dusk, just as the sun finished setting. The two of them hopped off the bike at the edge of the block; both boys knew what kind of fit Eddie’s mother would throw if she saw them like that. Eddie walked slowly down the street, not wanting it to end, while Richie pushed his bike alongside him. Sometimes their hands would brush against each other, but neither one moved away to stop it.

Despite Eddie’s valiant efforts to stop the inevitable, they did, eventually, make it to his house. For a moment, both boys stood in the middle of the sidewalk, neither one daring to break away. 

“Bye, Eddie,” Richie said, voice low.

“Goodbye, Richie.”

But neither one of them moved. Eddie could hear the cicadas chirping loudly from the bushes, buzzing in the constant low hum of summer. The fireflies had started coming out, too, blinking their little lights all around the sky. There were daisies sprouting up from the cracks in the sidewalk. 

Without warning, Richie dropped his bike on the sidewalk and wrapped his arms around Eddie, pulling him in close. 

“I’m gonna miss you, Eds,” he said quietly. 

“I’m still here,” Eddie protested. His voice sounded muffled against Richie’s chest.

“I know.”

“...I’ll miss you too, Richie.” Eddie finally put his arms around Richie’s waist, holding him tighter. “More than anything.”

He looked up to find Richie staring at him with that stupid dazed look plastered on his face again. There were a million things Eddie wanted to say - a million words building up at the back of his throat, begging to be let out. 

_You’re the person I like most in the world. I’m gay. I think your stupid jokes are really funny, even though I’d never tell you that to your face. I’m in love with you. I’m terrified of the fact that I’m in love with you. I don’t actually hate it when you call me Eds. I’ve never wanted to kiss anyone more than I want to kiss you right now_.

There were quite a few things Eddie could have said, if only he could have forced his voice to work. Instead, he just let himself stay wrapped in Richie’s arms, thinking that maybe this was enough. 

Richie pulled away, eventually, arms hanging awkwardly at his sides. “See ya tomorrow, Eds.” His smile was sad in a way Eddie couldn’t quite figure out.

Eddie nodded. “Tomorrow.”


	6. pictures of you

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> timeskip time

If Eddie Kaspbrak thought he was in for a shock seeing Mike and Bill again, it was fucking nothing compared to Richie. 

As soon as Richie walked into the restaurant, he picked up a mallet and struck a gong with all his might, which Eddie thought was a pretty accurate metaphor for what Richie was doing to his heart. Just seeing Richie again made his whole chest ache, and, to him, seemed ridiculous. He barely even remembered who the guy was, for fuck’s sake, so why did he feel like _this_?

As soon as the waitress brought over drinks, Eddie downed his in one go, but the alcohol burning in his throat didn’t taste nearly as bitter as seeing Richie again. He and Richie ended up returning to some approximation of the way they used to be, moving closer together throughout the night and making fun of each other relentlessly. It didn’t feel quite right - it was harsher, less personal, more unfamiliar - and yet it was still better than anything else had been in years. It was still Richie, after all. That hadn’t changed. 

And by the time Eddie left the restaurant, one more thing had become painfully, stupidly obvious. 

He was still in love with Richie Tozier.

* * *

Eddie couldn’t sleep.

The whole night - seeing everyone again, opening the fortune cookies, hearing the news about Stan, listening to Bev describe her horrifying death-visions - had been too overwhelming to bear. 

He sat up, rubbing his eyes and cursing under his breath. Reaching his hand out blindly through the dark, he turned on the lamp before standing up and stretching his arms over his head. It was getting harder to breathe, little by little - he needed fresh air. Shoving on his shoes, he walked out of his room to the second-floor balcony. He waited there a moment before he pushed open the door and let out a deep, shaky breath.

“...Oh.” Richie waved from where he was leaning against the railing. "Hey, Eds.” 

Eddie froze in his tracks. Of _course_ Richie was here. It was foolish for Eddie to think that, even for a moment, something might actually go according to plan. He hesitated by the doorway, cursing the never-ending comedy of errors that was his life. “Sorry, I can leave, I didn’t mean to-”

Richie shrugged. “You’re fine, man. You can stay, if you want.”

“...Okay.” Eddie walked towards the railing, leaning back against it next to Richie. 

“So,” Richie started, “how’s the wife?”

Eddie grimaced. “Can we please talk about literally anything else.”

“Trouble in paradise for you and Jabba, huh?” Richie snorted.

“Beep beep, Richie.” Eddie had meant for it to sound angry, but he really just sounded tired.

And Richie must have noticed Eddie’s tone, because he shut his mouth pretty quickly. The two stood in silence for a while, neither one daring to speak a word. 

After a while, though, Eddie noticed Richie starting to shake with laughter. Richie covered his mouth with his hand, but Eddie could still hear him snickering behind it.

Eddie elbowed him in the ribs. “What the fuck, man?”

Richie turned towards him, laughing out loud now. “Okay, this is gonna sound ridiculous, and you're gonna think I'm an idiot, but I just remembered something.”

“Oh?” When Richie didn’t respond, Eddie continued. “Well, what is it?”

Richie cleared his throat. Eddie, recognizing the way Richie prepared A Voice, grimaced in anticipation. “Have you ever heard of a _staph infection_?” Richie said in a high-pitched imitation of what could only have been young Eddie.

Eddie’s grimace quickly shifted into a bark of laughter. “Holy shit, Rich-” He grinned. “I didn’t even remember that. Holy shit.”

“Eds, Eds, say it. You gotta say it,” he urged.

“Me?”

Richie nodded excitedly. “Yeah, come on, Eddie Spaghetti!”

Eddie rolled his eyes, but even so, he pitched up his voice and said, “Have you ever heard of a _staph infection_?”

“C’mon, c’mon, do the hand motion!”

Eddie brought one hand down over the other, expression twisted in mock anger. Richie doubled over laughing, and Eddie’s heart skipped a beat the same way it always used to.

_Fuck this_.

He could _not_ still be in love with Richie Tozier. He couldn’t be, because if he was, then it would be proof that he’d never emotionally progressed past middle school, and Eddie would not let that be his legacy.

“Hey,” he started, looking for a distraction, “Fucking _Eddie Spaghetti_. We’re forty years old, man, you cannot keep calling me that.”

“Fine, then let’s go business casual, _Edward_.”

“Oh, God.” Eddie frowned. “That’s _worse_.”

“I know.” Richie grinned at him, and it seemed more genuine than it had all night. “Eds it is, then. You can’t get rid of that one.”

“Don’t call me that.” He looked down so Richie wouldn’t see him smiling.

“You always used to say that,” Richie said fondly. Suddenly, a strange expression crept over his face. “Shit, man, it’s fucking weird seeing you again.”

Eddie felt his stomach twist into knots. “Weird how?”

“C’mon, Eds, you know how. It’s been 27 years.”

His chest suddenly felt empty. “Yeah.”

“I missed you,” Richie said.

Eddie cursed the sudden warmth that appeared in his chest. “You didn’t even remember me.”

“Still missed you. Just cause I forgot doesn’t mean you stopped being important.”

And _holy shit, a confession like that must deserve something in return_. “...I used to watch your comedy specials,” Eddie admitted.

Richie’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “Shit, really?”

Eddie nodded, embarrassed. “Every single one. I don’t know why! I didn’t even think you were that funny!”

Richie just doubled over in laughter once again, apparently finding Eddie’s lack of amusement hilarious.

Eddie continued on. “No, seriously! I knew you didn’t write your own fucking material! Cause whenever I watched you, I would think things like, ‘Richie wouldn’t say that.’ Then I’d wonder why the fuck I thought I knew what you would say.” He paused, almost embarrassed. “I, uh. I missed you too.”

“I _really_ missed you, Eds,” Richie said softly.

Eddie felt like his heart was going to beat out of his chest . “...You already told me that.”

Richie smiled, but his gaze wouldn’t quite meet Eddie’s. “Guess I did.”

They’d gotten closer, Eddie noticed, the same way they always used to when they were young. Their hands were almost touching as they both leaned back against the railing, and sometimes Richie’s shoulder would bump against his when he laughed. Eddie looked up at him, eyes wide. He still had to tilt his head up to meet Richie’s eyes, and _yeah, their height difference was still a thing for him_. And when Richie finally looked back down at him, his smile was small and soft.

Not for the first time, Eddie wanted to kiss him. And when he saw the way Richie was staring down at him, he thought, just for a _moment_ , that Richie might want to kiss him, too. 

But just as Eddie moved forwards, just a little bit, Richie very suddenly turned away. 

"Uh." He leaned back and cleared his throat awkwardly, effectively breaking whatever spell had come over them. “I’m gonna turn in for tonight, Eds.”

Eddie took a quick step backwards and swallowed over the quickly forming lump in his throat. “...Goodnight, Rich.” 

Richie gave him a mock two-finger salute, sauntering back into the hotel. Eddie stood alone on the balcony, and all he could do was stare at the empty space Richie had left. 

He thought of the Richie from 27 years ago, all laughter and warmth and teasing insults.

He thought of the Richie slowly coming back to him in flashes of memory, faded and hazy and wrapped up in nostalgia.

He thought of the Richie in front of him now, tall and grinning and a little bit broken, and he felt like he’d been punched in the stomach.


	7. friday i'm in love

Eddie slowly opened his eyes, bleary and confused. He glanced around, noticing the blank white walls, the IV monitor, the bandages around his chest, and _shit_ , he was in the Derry hospital. He’d been to this place enough times in his life to know that.

But what he didn’t know was why Richie Tozier was sleeping in a shitty hospital chair next to him. His tall frame slumped awkwardly against the hospital bed, his hair was wild and messy, and his glasses sat crookedly on his face. Eddie resisted the overwhelming urge to reach over and fix them. One of Richie’s hands supported his head, propped against the arm of the chair, and the other lay on the hospital bed, right next to Eddie’s. They were barely touching, but the small brush of skin still made Eddie’s head spin. They were always so, so close, but still worlds apart, still pushing each other away and _oh_ , the pain in his chest must have been what heartache felt like, stupid and longing and obsessive.

The pain could also have been from the gaping hole in his chest. Oh, right - _that’s_ why he was in the hospital. He’d been impaled through the chest by a fucking clown.

Eddie groaned, nudging Richie’s hand with his own. “Wake up, Tozier.”

Richie slowly blinked, then shot up as soon as he realized what was happening. “Eds,” he whispered. A warm, crooked smile stretched across his face. “Eds, Eddie, holy shit, man, holy _fuck_. You’re okay.” He sounded close to reverent.

Eddie could hear his own voice wavering as he spoke. “Did it work? I mean, did we actually kill the clown?”

Richie nodded. “Yeah, Eds, we fucking did it. All thanks to you, man.” 

“Fuck yeah.” Eddie wasn’t really sure if that was the appropriate response to killing his own personal interdimensional Eldritch horror, but it felt right. 

Richie’s hand still hadn’t moved, though, resolutely placed on the bed. _Well, fuck it_ , Eddie decided. If he was brave enough to attack a nigh-invincible supernatural clown entity with a fencepost, he was brave enough to hold his childhood crush’s hand. Eddie carefully laced Richie’s fingers between his. Richie’s hand was big, his palm was just a little bit sweaty, and as far was Eddie was concerned, this was the most romantic thing that had ever happened to him. He’d assumed Richie would make a dumb joke about it, but weirdly enough, he didn’t say a word. He just held Eddie’s hand back, comforting and warm.

But after a few moments, he cleared his throat and leaned up in his seat. Eddie noticed that his face was very, very red. “Shit, I should go call the others, and the doctor told me not to call in the hospital room, and-”

Eddie gripped his hand tighter, fear starting to creep over him. “Just text them.”

“You not being dead seems like awfully big news to share over text, Eds.”

“I don’t want you to leave.” Eddie’s voice was small, and he hated how needy he sounded. But it must have worked, somehow, because Richie’s eyes widened and he leaned back into his chair, nodding. 

“I’ll just. Uh. I’ll text them.” He pulled out his phone, typing somewhat awkwardly with only one free hand. “What emojis should I use?”

Eddie stared at him. “Trick question. Fucking _none_.”

“Spaghetti man is awake.” Richie dictated as he spoke, apparently electing to ignore Eddie’s comment. “Thumbs up, cool sunglasses guy.”

“Add the hospital emoji.”

Richie laughed, but did it anyway. “Why?”

“To signify where we are,” he replied.

Richie narrowed his eyes, amusement plainly written across his face. “Where the hell else would we be?”

“It’s my near-death experience, asshole. I get to choose the emojis,” Eddie said sternly.

“Okay, man.” Richie finished typing out the text message and placed his phone back into his jacket pocket.

When Richie looked back up at him, Eddie waited for a moment before asking the question that had been bothering him since he’d awoken. “How long was I out?”

Richie shrugged and tilted his head. “Three days, maybe? I kinda lost track.”

Eddie’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, you _lost track_?”

“It was hard to tell! All the clocks here are broken!” Richie threw his free hand in the air, gesturing wildly.

“Wait, Richie-” Eddie hesitated, not quite knowing how to continue. “Were you here the whole time?”

“Uh, yeah?” Richie shrugged. “I didn’t sleep here or anything, the nurse wouldn’t let me, even when I turned on the good ol’ Tozier Charm, so I just showed up every morning. That probably sounds creepy. I promise it’s not creepy.” 

Eddie shook his head rapidly and clung to Richie’s hand even tighter. “It’s not creepy, it’s- it’s nice. To hear that, I mean.” He paused. “...I was just surprised to see you when I woke up.”

Richie raised an eyebrow. “You sound disappointed,” he said in the mocking tone he used to cover up real sadness. 

“I’m not. Swear to fucking god, man, I’m not, I just-” Eddie swallowed. “...I didn’t think you cared that much?”

And for some unknown reason, that sent Richie spiraling into near-hysterical laughter.

Eddie glared at him and knocked their still-intertwined hands against the bed. “Stop laughing at me!”

Richie looked back up at him, amusement and affection plainly written across his face. “Then stop saying stupid shit, Eds.”

“It’s not stupid!” he said desperately. “I mean, we haven’t seen each other for _decades_ , Rich. You didn’t even remember who I was two weeks ago.”

“We were best friends, Eds.” Richie rubbed his thumb against the back of Eddie’s hand. “You… meant a lot to me. That kinda thing doesn’t just go away.” 

And Eddie just stared back at him, trying his best to blink back tears from his red-rimmed eyes. “...I know.” 

“Hey, uh, speaking of feelings and shit.” Richie looked down at the cold linoleum floor. “There’s something I’ve been meaning to-”

“ _Eddie_!” Bev’s exuberant call from the doorway cut off whatever Richie was about to say.

At her arrival, Richie quickly dropped Eddie’s hand and jerked his own hand back into his jacket pocket. Eddie glanced down at his hand, feeling cold without the contact. He shook it off, though, to look back up at Bev. Behind her stood Mike, Ben, and Bill, all of whom looked equal parts relieved and ecstatic to see their friend again. 

“Hey, guys.” Eddie waved weakly with his newly free hand. 

Bill approached him first, a newly confident smile plastered onto his face. “Holy _fuck_ , Eddie.”

“How eloquent, Big Bill,” Richie jibed from his spectator’s chair. "Aren't you supposed to be a writer?" 

“ _Fuck_ you.” Bill grinned wider. Eddie noticed he was crying just a little bit. He started reaching out to hug Eddie, but paused and frowned when he took a good look at the bandages wrapped around his chest. Instead, he held Eddie’s shoulder, eyes shining. “T-Thank you,” he said, choked, and Eddie suddenly remembered why the child version of himself was so devoutly willing to give up his life for Bill.

Mike approached him next. Eddie saw a sense of contentedness on his face, like he was finally unburdened for the first time in years. Mike opted for fondly ruffling Eddie’s hair, saying softly, “I’m proud of you.” He smiled, all warmth and sunshine. “We couldn’t have done this without you.”

Bev was after that. She looked at him with pure love in her eyes, and she almost seemed as if she might cry. Instead, she gave him a light, soft kiss on the forehead, which was very sweet. “Oh my god, Eddie. I’m so glad you’re okay.”

Ben also kissed him on the forehead, which, while unexpected, was still pretty nice. “That was the coolest thing I’ve ever seen, Eddie.” Ben was grinning at him widely, sheer joy clearly shining through in his expression.

“Thank you all.” Eddie smiled. “For everything.” He was too close to crying to say anything else, but everyone seemed to know what he meant. 

The six of them stayed there until the hospital closed, catching up and reminiscing about old memories. They talked about the clubhouse, the quarry, and the old movie theater. They talked about how much all of their lives had changed and all of the different paths they’d followed. They talked about how much they wished Stan was here with them.

And despite everything, it was the best day Eddie had lived in years. 

Eventually, one of the nurses came up to his room to kick them out. After some tearful goodbyes and promises to visit again first thing tomorrow, his friends reluctantly started standing up and exiting the room. Richie, of course, was the last one to leave, hanging back even after everyone else was already gone. 

“Wait.” Eddie’s voice sounded small as he called out to Richie. 

Richie paused, turning around to look at him. “Yeah, Eds?” He leaned against the doorway in the half-light, holding his jacket, crooked smile stretching across his face. 

Eddie looked at him and thought that there must have been a million times he’d wanted to kiss Richie before. His memories had slowly started returning after answering Mike’s phone call, even more so after arriving in Derry, but they’d really hit him hard after he reunited with his old friends. He remembered damn near everything now.

He remembered the night they all spent star-gazing at Mike’s farm, when Richie gave him his jacket to keep him warm and told him all of his stupid made-up names for constellations. Days of Richie and him pressed against each other in the fucking hammock, both of them too ridiculously stubborn to leave. Sitting next to Richie watching fireworks on the Fourth of July. Swimming in the quarry and trying not to stare at Richie the way he always wanted to. Afternoons in the arcade feeling Richie’s hand brush against his whenever they chose a two-player game. How stupidly good Richie had looked in his disheveled suit on Derry High Prom Night. Spending hours talking to Richie on the phone, laughing loudly and praying his mother wasn’t listening in. Driving around in Richie’s beat-up car for hours, not really going anywhere, just sitting in the passenger seat and desperately convincing himself not to lean over the stick-shift and kiss him. 

But there were new memories, too: Arm-wrestling at the restaurant and feeling Richie’s muscles strain against his. Richie holding his shoulder and telling him he’s brave, tapping his cheek in a way that would have been tender if only Eddie hadn’t just been stabbed in the face. Kneeling over Richie after he’d fallen from the deadlights and wondering if he should follow in Ben’s footsteps from 27 years earlier. Waking up from his coma and realizing that Richie had waited, all this time, for him.

Eddie loved him. It wasn’t the same as when they were young, but it wasn’t quite different, either. Eddie thought he might be able to spend a hundred different lifetimes with Richie and fall in love with him in a hundred different ways. 

“Eddie?” Richie’s questioning voice pulled him from his thoughts.

“I-” Eddie started. “It’s nothing, Rich.” He just smiled. “See you tomorrow?”

Richie smiled back. “See you tomorrow."

* * *

Eddie was in the hospital for another two weeks. Richie was there every day to keep him company, though he spent most of his time telling awful jokes and being a pain in the ass for the doctors. It wasn’t like he was the only one who visited - the rest of his friends came too, every single day. Richie just never seemed to _leave_. Whenever Eddie woke up, Richie was beside him, and whenever the hospital closed, Richie was the last one to exit. Eddie felt truly, genuinely cared about in a way he hadn’t in years. He knew the feelings behind it were different for Richie, but that didn’t stop him from falling even more stupidly, desperately in love with the guy.

In the few days before Eddie was released, everyone besides Richie ended up having to leave Derry. Bill had gone first, the stress of his movie needing a new ending finally overtaking him. Ben and Bev had gone next, together, of course. Mike had left last - he’d finally booked a flight headed straight for Florida. 

Eddie hadn’t quite figured out why Richie had stayed so long. One night, when Richie was standing outside Eddie’s hotel room, believing him to be asleep, Eddie had overheard an angry call between Richie and his manager. 

Richie had cancelled his whole tour.

The day Eddie was released from the hospital, he insisted that Richie drive him back to the hotel for a shower and a change of clothes. As much as he hated staying in Derry for longer, he couldn't stand that unclean post-hospital feeling even more. After that, though, he’d packed up his belongings as quickly as possible before placing them in the back of Richie’s car, which had only fueled Richie’s mockery of Eddie’s frankly ridiculous amount of suitcases.

“I know this is gonna sound like one of those repetitive questions that those asshole doctors have asked you over and over again, but, uh. How are you feeling?” Richie asked as he finally slammed the trunk closed over their luggage.

Eddie shrugged, and it barely even hurt this time. “More alive. Still feels like I got penetrated by something huge, and holy _shit_ , please don't make that into a sex joke.”

Richie raised his eyebrows. "If you think you can use the word _penetrate_ without me making a sex joke, I might have to get the doctors to check you for brain damage." 

"Fuck you, you dick. I'm doing _fine_ , by the way, thank you so much for asking." Eddie crossed his arms.

“What about, uh. Y’know.” Richie grimaced. “The infamous Hutt?”

Eddie narrowed his eyes. “You mean Myra?”

“Yeah, well. Must have been one hell of a phone call if I could hear it through the walls.”

“The reason you could hear it through the walls is cause you were eavesdropping, asshole,” Eddie accused. 

“Little old me? Why, I never!” Richie gasped in mock offense. 

Eddie snorted. “Don’t worry. Bev gave me the number of her very reputable divorce lawyer.”

Richie suddenly turned towards him, looking oddly serious. “...Eds, are you happy?”

“Happy?” he had to think about it for a minute. “I’m getting divorced, I’m probably fired from my job, and I almost got murdered by a giant clown, but, honestly?” Eddie laughed softly. “I think I’m happier than I have been in a while.”

“Me, too.” Richie gave him a small, genuine smile. “It’s like I finally found a part of myself that’s been missing half my life.”

“God, I missed you guys.” Eddie met his gaze. “I missed _you_ , Richie.”

Richie looked away, seeming almost nervous. “Eddie, can I tell you something?”

Eddie nodded curiously. “Go for it.”

“I, uh. I- I wanted to tell you that there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for a while, and, I. Fuck.” Richie groaned, burying his face in his hands. “God, I’m pathetic. I finally get the opportunity to tell you and I can’t even spit it out.”

Eddie raised his eyebrows. “I think this is the first time I’ve ever seen you at a loss for words. I’m kind of impressed.”

“Listen, Eds, I-” Richie looked intently at the ground. “Ever since I got back here, I keep catching myself thinking about, uh, certain things. Things I used to think about a lot, back when we were kids. And about how different my life would have been if I hadn’t been too scared to do those certain things, and if I’d had the fucking balls to just say certain things to certain people, ya know?”

Eddie got the odd feeling that he’d missed something important. “I... don’t really think I understand?”

“Okay, okay. Let me start over.” Richie pushed up his glasses, finally looking at Eddie. “Fuck it, man. Can I show you something?”

* * *

Strapping into his seatbelt, Eddie shot a glare towards the driver’s seat. “Richie, where the fuck are we going?”

“It’s a surprise!” he chimed.

Eddie’s glare only became more unimpressed. “Seriously, man.”

"Fine. I know it must be weird to not know where we’re going. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before.” He turned towards Eddie, looking at him intently. “We’re going to your mom’s house.”

“Very funny, asshole."

Richie shot him a wink and started humming along to a song on the radio.

As he listened in, Eddie was hit with a sudden wave of recognition. “Hey, I remember this song.”

“Oh?”

“It was on a CD you made for me.” Eddie looked down, smiling despite himself. 

“...You remember that?” For some reason, Richie sounded almost hesitant.

“It meant a lot to me.” Eddie shrugged. “I still have the CD, y’know.”

Richie let out a half-strangled sound. “Fuck, you really kept it?”

Eddie nodded, slightly embarrassed as he remembered the CD case labeled simply _For Eds_. “I didn’t know why, or who gave it to me. But I would still listen to it, sometimes, and wonder.” He listened in to the radio again, swept up in what he heard.

_Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am young again  
Whenever I'm alone with you  
You make me feel like I am fun again_

Eddie concluded that it still hit _way_ too close to home - and apparently, he’d gotten so distracted by it that he’d only just now realized where Richie had taken him. “Rich, why the fuck are we at the Kissing Bridge?”

Richie put the car into park and turned it off. “This is gonna seem crazy, but just follow me, okay?”

Eddie hesitantly complied, trailing after Richie, who seemed to be walking along the side of the bridge in search of something. Eventually, Richie stopped and leaned awkwardly against the fence, pointing to a very specific set of letters.

“I did it when we were thirteen,” he said quietly. 

Eddie stared at the carving uncomprehendingly. He must have passed by it a million times, and he always wondered, but he’d never seriously entertained the thought that it was actually what he’d wanted it to be. Back then, it had seemed like pathetic, yearning projection, and even Eddie wasn’t quite that sad. “You did this for _us_?”

Richie shuffled his feet, looking down. “Yeah.”

“Oh,” Eddie breathed. 

“I mean, I was gonna write ‘ _Eddie’s mom_ ,’ but my hand got tired, so.” Richie said it with a laugh, but it sounded hollow. He was making a joke about it, he always did, like maybe if he laughed hard enough Eddie wouldn't notice his eyes were still lost, vulnerable, begging not to be rejected.

Eddie’s mouth felt dry. “Richard Tozier, don’t you dare make a joke about my fucking mom at a time like this.”

When he looked up, Richie looked almost apologetic. He met Eddie’s gaze for a moment, then pushed up his glasses and looked sideways. “Sorry, Eds, I’m kinda freaking out right now? I don’t really know what to say.”

Eddie had never been more lost in his life. “...You could start with an explanation?”

Richie wrung his hands together and took a deep breath, almost shaking, before he finally spoke. “When we were kids, I was super into you, man. Since practically the first time we met, I think, but I didn’t actually realize it until the summer we killed that stupid fucking clown. The first time, I mean. Even after that, I spent a solid amount of time repressing it, and denying it, because I knew what happened to people like that in this town. But I still carved our initials into the bridge, as a nice subtle fuck-you to all the shitheads in this place. I mean, not just for that, obviously.” He finally looked up to meet Eddie’s eyes. “The more important reason is because I was completely, one-hundred-percent, head-over-goddamn-heels in love with you. The more I remember, the more I’m convinced that I’ve _always_ been in love with you.” Richie let out a deep breath before continuing. “And you’re probably wondering why I told you, and I’m kinda wondering too, actually, but-” He hesitated. “You almost didn’t make it, Eds, and I didn’t want you to die without knowing. After all this time, you deserved to know.”

“...Oh.” Eddie bent down slightly to trace the letters, careful to avoid splinters. He’d had a chance. He’d actually had a fucking chance, when they were young. Richie had loved him. He'd loved him _back_ , and Eddie missed it because he was the same stupid, pathetic coward he'd always been. 

Eddie used to have dreams where he was drowning in greywater. He would try to grab onto something, anything, but the water would slip through his fingers, and he couldn’t breathe. He would gasp for air, but none would come, and his lungs would burn as he slipped further down, helpless and lost.

That was exactly what he felt like now. 

He straightened back up, looking at Richie. “...When did you stop?” He forced the words out of his mouth. 

Richie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “Uh, what?”

Eddie took a deep breath. “Um, you- you said you _were_ in love with me, and I wanted to know when you stopped feeling that way, and- you don’t have to tell me, I just, yeah.”

“Oh.” Richie pushed up his glasses. “I kinda never did?” 

Eddie stared at him blankly, gears slowly turning in his brain.

“And I know how weird that sounds, cause it’s been 27 fucking years, but I still do, and I think I might always-”

Finally, Eddie’s body caught up with his brain, which currently only had the capacity to think, _holy shit, kiss him_. He pushed himself up onto his tip-toes, grabbed the collar of Richie’s shirt, and pulled him down to meet his lips. Richie felt so strong against him. His lips were surprisingly soft, and the stubble on his jaw felt rough in the best kind of way.

It only lasted for a few seconds before Richie was slowly pulling away. Eddie hoped Richie would kiss him again, but instead he just awkwardly stepped back.

“Wow, hey. Uh, what?” Richie pushed up his glasses, cheeks flushed. “You don’t have to do that just cause you feel bad for me, or something. I’m not that pathetic.” He gave Eddie a small smile, embarrassed and a little sad.

Eddie almost laughed out of the sheer irony of the whole situation. It’d been half a lifetime and they _still_ couldn’t get it right. “Do you know how many thousands of germs are in a human mouth, Richie?” he demanded. “Do you know how many different species of bacteria are proliferating as we speak? Do you-”

“I hate to interrupt you, Eds, and you know I love it when you talk medical to me, but, uh, how is this relevant?”

“It means,” Eddie stepped closer, “that I wouldn’t have kissed you if I didn’t want to.”

“Oh,” Richie breathed. 

“Me too, Rich,” he said quietly. “Ever since we were kids. Me too.” 

Richie just looked completely dazed as he stared down at Eddie. 

With a fond sigh, Eddie pulled down on his collar again, bringing them closer together. “Say something, Richie.”

Richie finally snapped back to reality, blinking twice. “Oh, thank _fuck_.”

He crashed his lips against Eddie’s, wrapping large, strong hands around his waist. Eddie responded with the same fervor, tangling one hand in Richie’s dark hair and bracing the other against his shoulder to drag him even closer, pressing himself flush against Richie’s chest. He hadn’t known that it was possible to be this close to someone. Eddie made a small, desperate noise in the back of his throat. His skin lit up, burning at every point of contact, and he didn’t know if it was years of repressed hormones finally coming to life or if it was just _Richie_. Richie groaned and pulled him closer, closer, impossibly closer, and Eddie kissed back harder, tilting his head to get a better angle. Richie was stupidly tall, so much so that Eddie had to push himself up onto his tip-toes and desperately cling to his shirt just to properly reach his lips. 

" _Man_ , you're short," muttered Richie, kissing along Eddie's jaw to the corner of his mouth. 

"Can you _not_ make height jokes when I'm kissing you," returned Eddie breathlessly before pressing his lips to Richie's once again. Bit his lip, pulled back, because he had a point to prove. "I'm not even that short." 

"But I’m _tall_." Richie slid his hands up Eddie's chest. "Whenever I imagined kissing you, you were never that hard to reach-" Realizing what he'd admitted, he quickly clamped his mouth shut, but he didn't let go of Eddie. 

"...You imagined kissing me?" Eddie grinned, leaving his hands pressed loosely against Richie's neck to keep them close together. 

"All the time," said Richie, his voice low. "Almost as much as I imagined kissing your mom-" 

Eddie pulled away and laughed. "You're just as insufferable as you used to be." He kept his hands on Richie's shoulders, though, not willing to give up their point of contact.

"That's what you love about me, Eds," he teased.

"Yeah." Eddie dragged Richie down by the collar to kiss him again, soft and worm, before pulling back and grinning. "I guess it is." 

Richie just stared at him, glasses crooked and messy hair falling into his eyes. “...Woah.”

“...Yeah.” Eddie replied in the same dazed, near-disbelieving tone. 

Richie let out a short, wheezy laugh. “Y’know, you could have just _said_.”

“What, asshole, and you couldn’t have?”

“I called you cute at least once a week!” protested Richie indignantly. “I made you a mixtape full of love songs! I carved our names into the fucking makeout bridge! I was _this_ close to following Ben’s example and writing you a fucking poem, man.”

Eddie glared at him almost fondly. “I know you, Richie. Your poem would just have been about how badly you wanted to fuck my mom.”

“Okay, yeah, _maybe_ , but it would have been artfully fucking crafted and-”

Eddie buried his face in Richie’s chest. “Beep beep!”

Richie, apparently undeterred, continued. “A loving sonnet with an exquisite rhyme scheme, some serious Shakespearian shit, fucking unparalleled-”

Eddie grabbed Richie’s face and kissed him, which shut him up pretty quickly, and _wow_ , Eddie wished that he’d learned that trick earlier. He pulled back, cradling Richie’s jaw in his hand.

“I love you,” Eddie said softly.

Richie was grinning at him like he’d just won the goddamn lottery. “I love you _more_.”

“Fuck you, it’s not a _competition_.” Eddie grinned back at him. “But if it was, I would win.”

“You wanna bet, Eds?” Richie took a few steps backwards, his grin turning smug, then turned to look across the water. “I love Eddie Kaspbrak!” He yelled wildly, throwing his hands in the air with reckless abandon. 

Not to be outdone, Eddie turned to the side of the bridge, cupped his hands around his mouth, and yelled as loud as he possibly could, “I love Richie Tozier!” 

They both burst into laughter, a combination of hilarity, relief, and pure happiness all in one. 

“Let’s get out of here,” said Richie suddenly.

“Like, back to the hotel?”

“No, not-” Richie’s eyes went wide. “You, uh, want to go back to the hotel with me?”

Eddie just shrugged, as if it was obvious. 

Richie shook his head, clearly blushing. Eddie tried not to let that go to his head. “But that’s- that’s not that I meant. I mean out of Derry. Let’s check out of the hotel and just book it.”

Eddie paused, confused. “Where are we going to go?” 

Richie threw his hands in the air. “Los Angeles. New York. Fucking Idaho, for all I care.” 

“Are you being serious?” asked Eddie, still hesitant.

Richie nodded solemnly, and Eddie could tell it was a promise. “One-hundred-percent.”

“...Okay.” Eddie smiled, more sure about this than he'd been about anything else in his life. “Yeah, okay, Rich. Anywhere you want. Let’s go.” 

But before they got in the car, Eddie kissed him again. 

Just because he could.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The end!!


End file.
